


Protégé

by Lucille_Bonnefoi



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Don't Examine This Too Closely, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Out of Character, The Author Regrets Everything, Why Did I Write This?, obscenity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-07 02:43:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12831639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucille_Bonnefoi/pseuds/Lucille_Bonnefoi
Summary: Protégé:(FR)past participle of protéger:protected;(EN)noun:a person who is guided and supported by an older and more experienced or influential person.An AU loosely based on 1994 film Léon: The Professional.Warning: The characters are so out of character that they are hardly recognizable. Dark-themed.





	Protégé

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psychomath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomath/gifts).



> Sorry for spamming the tag with something this meaningless. But this ship really is badly in need of more fanfics with different AU settings, and this idea just came to me.  
> I'm not native speaker of English, and this is un-betaed. Grammar and spelling mistakes are highly likely. I'm sorry.  
> Constructive criticism is welcomed.

The one sitting in the corner must be that legendary Tommy, the mysterious free-lance hit-man I’m looking for. He seems very slim from a distance, which is quite unusual in his trade. But it makes sense, because he is known for his wits rather than his strength. His targets never end up beaten into pulp, but they end up as casualties of perfectly staged accidents, without the police suspecting a thing. The smile on his juvenile face almost looks sheepish had I not known what he was capable of. But the contrast only makes him more intriguing. He doesn’t have company, and it’s already twenty minutes after our arranged time, so I come forward without hesitation. Although I can be tactical at times when necessary, generally I am not a patient person. Also, people don't dare keep me waiting considering who I am.  
I approach casually and greet him. He seems fairly surprised, before recognition dawns in his eyes. Of course he would recognize me despite the shades and the mask I’m wearing, part of the professional skill I was expecting. After all I find myself on the list of best-looking people every year. I sit down on the stool next to him, remove my mask revealing my typical Casanova-esque smile, and slip the hand-written card provided by the middleman onto the table, elegantly.

He smiles coyly at me, his fluttering thick eyelashes casting a pair of shadows on his face in the dim purplish light of the pub. His boyish charm seems more striking when he is seen more closely now. Despite the hair gel on his hair and the liquor in his glass he still looks more like a normal high school student than a professional killer. And the contrast of it impresses me a great deal. I am rarely the one to get attracted before the other is seduced by my charisma. To be honest, beauty is something that I’ve grown used to. As one of the most eligible bachelors in the world I’ve screwed scores of men and women in a variety of ethnicities and professions. And now most beauties are too boring for me to pay any attention at all. Clearly his face is far less polished than the faces that surround me every day, with his imperfect teeth and his wide grin far from standardized; in the meantime his aura is anything but vulgar, on the contrary one may even say it is sort of delicate. He is effortlessly and naturally tempting without knowing it. Maybe it's my adrenaline making me more excited. Anyway I’ve decided to screw him. And I always get what I want. Though it may require a bit of patience and tactics when it comes to seduction. Forcing physical contact right away would be too obtrusive. I'm far more experienced than that. 

So I might as well take my time and start with the initial purpose of the rendezvous, knowing that no one on this planet is immune to my charm. After a brief handshake I start to talk about my commission. He takes out a packet of cigarettes called Gauloises from the pocket of the black leather jacket hanging loosely from his shoulders and lights one. His exquisite long slim fingers holding the cigarette is truly a bewitching sight. I can see a ring on the fourth digit of his left hand, though it shouldn’t be too much of a problem, not to me at least. I'm known as the terminator of not only virginity, but also fidelity. If anything, the fact that he's ringed only makes me more determined to get him. 

I can’t get those damned fingers out of my mind even when I’m talking about that wretched drug dealer of mine who dared to blackmail me for an unreasonable amount of money. Picturing his fingers on my cock distracts me.

He is listening attentively, nodding thoughtfully at times. If what they said is true, by now he must have already hatched a plan to get rid of my dealer. One that is neat enough, hopefully. Or several of them maybe. His face is too blank for me to tell. And with this kind of composure he surprises me once more. I can't wait to see him lose this composure in orgasms, to see his youngthful face tinged with lust. 

Lost in my own thought, I am taken aback when he says abruptly:"Would it be better if you try to bargain with him? Would it be really necessary to go to such lengths?"

He must be testing my resolution, so I reassure him of mine without hesitation. Curiously, something resembling disappointment flickers briefly in his eyes. 

“So it's for the reputation of your family and yourself then. ” He smiles. And I nod with a wink in response. Instead of talking about payment and due date, he seems to be making casual conversations, and I am smiling triumphantly inside. 

"Would it be rude to ask what secret did he blackmail you with? " He asked, smiling uneasily. Normally hired killers are not supposed to ask personal questions to their clients at all. But my desire for him is making me forgive his intrusion. Funny. I may regret it later if he should decide to use it against me someday. But again I can hire someone else to silence him for good.

Anyhow, I lean in closer and whisper to his ear:"Yes. Not your place to ask, gorgeous. But I'll make an exception for you. " I can now notice the faint blush on his cheeks even in the dim light. How cute. 

I continue to tell him the minor road accident that could have turned into a so-called scandal, the heat of my breath clearly itching his ear.

"How unfortunate! "He sighs. And I gladly agree, slowly moving my head to face him. Now we are so close that the the tips of our noses are less than an inch away from each other. 

A newbie would claim it to be the moment to kiss. But the experienced predator that I am will tease a bit more with my prey.

I back away, and sip my drink. He seems lost in thought for a moment, thick eyebrows furrowing in a cute way. 

"The drinks in here is alright. But it's the music that I like. " 

I realize that he's talking about the old-fashioned French chanson playing at the moment, and I compliment his taste half-heartedly. I didn't expect a boy his age to be so nostalgic. Despite my lack of interest in this genre of music, I think the dizzy tune provides me with the perfect romantic ambiance to advance on. With the slow rhythm I close in again little by little. When my lips reach his, he shuts his eyes, which turns me on more badly. I gently caress the back of his neck with one hand, trace his sharp jawline with the other, and hear him chuckle in his throat. It makes me harder. 

He breaks away as I start to invade him with my tongue, and shows me his ringed hand with clear embarrassment. I apologize without sincerity. My patience is running out.

It gets weirder when he pulls out a wallet and shows me a photo of a smiling man who is likely his dumb husband. The man is young, and has the features of a Greek sculpture, with round eyes and a refined nose. To be honest I wouldn't mind a threesome with the two of them, but I doubt it is Tommy's plan at all. It's more likely his ridiculous morality tormenting him. But I'm afraid it's too late, little lamb, for I never advance without conquering.

"He looks nice. I promise to return you to him intact after tonight, okay? " I grab hold of his hand, and swallow hard. Despite the gentle voice I'm feigning, I am not planning to leave him intact at all. I want him broken, marked everywhere in obscene ways by me, a punishment for making me wait this long. My lips can't help curling as I imagine the look on his husband's symmetric face when he sees his little lover again. And there will be nothing he can do about it.

The boy blinks a few times before finally nodding nervously. I observe him with my burning erection aching in the restraint of my pants. Fuck. How I want to savor him right here right now. 

Before he can finish the word "Men's room" weakly, I'm already dragging him there with an arm around his thin waist. To be honest, I don't mind having sex in public at all, but the special nature of this rendezvous demands more discretion than usual. 

He doesn't seem resistant. And I push him with probably too much force into one of the closets and lock the door behind us hastily. 

As I turn around and face him again-the fuck has happened-his smile has turned from sheepish to somewhat devilish. He takes out a ... What? Fucking hell- It's...

...

I regain consciousness to find myself flat on my stomach with one of my legs stretched uncomfortablely and chained to the closet door. He is sitting gracefully on the toilet, looking down upon me with a cigarette, the soles of his shoes heavy on my numb arms. I curse inside.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" I spit at him with all the menacing force I can manage with my stained throat. "Are you fucking trying to blackmail me as well? I will garantee you a most miserable death. Just you wait! "

"No thanks." He says slowly with a strangely pained (?) voice. "I'm afraid the only death happening here is going to be yours. "

What the fuck! Now I am seriously panicking. 

I manage a "why" with faked submission. Tactics, I remind myself. 

I wasn't forcing you, I say with a kind of apparent sincerity that may even convince myself. "I'm sorry if I was presumptuous, I thought I had your consent."

His lips seem to twist a little, but just a little. I can't tell if he is sneering from my perspective. He shakes his head."You still don't get it, do you? " 

I agree, innocently.

He turns the screen of his phone towards me and asks with a voice broken and barely audible:"Does this ring any bell then? "

As I watch the said video, my jaw drops, and my heart falls into a pile of ice.

It's the footage I thought our men had already wiped away from the world long ago. The road accident when I was high on cocaine and hit this passer-by with my roadster. And I called my bodyguards to dispose of him. They threw him down the cliff. 

And now every piece falls in place. I know who that nobody was. 

**Author's Note:**

> My intention was a plot twist at the end, an unexpected reverse of the predator-prey roles, and the highlighted existence of a certain character(Gibson in this case) without his actual appearance. My clumsy experiment of first-person narrative and my bold attempt to play with timeline turned out to be a disaster.  
> I apologize again for all the ooc-ness. I regret everything.  
> BTW the Gauloises is the brand that sounds the French-est I can think of (stuff like "Nos ancêtres les Gaulois"/Astérix etc. XD) But I'm no smoker so I have no idea if it is any good. This is not an advert. As for the chanson referred to, I was thinking something like Les Feuilles Mortes, maybe.


End file.
